Perrotte's Journal [NON CANON]

November 20th, (early morning)

It’s come back…. The nightmare that used to haunt me. I’m writing this by the light of a campfire to keep me awake. It woke the horse when I scrambled to my feet. Paddy. That’s its name. I can hear it shuffling nearby, calming down after its spook. I keep jumping at the noises. My thoughts are all splintered, it’s hard to gather them together. My hands are shaking. Even if I were attacked I don’t think I’d be able to aim a bolt to fire true. All this over a nightmare, at least it happened when I was alone. I’d hate to have to explain this to anyone. I should try to calm down…

I used to keep a journal, a lot like this when I was younger. It was given such importance at the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if the books I had filled with my thoughts are all turned to ash now. I’m musing again… I shouldn’t think of the past. It’s the spiders. Why did it have to be spiders? Giant things the size of the hounds I used to play with. Seeing them oozing and dismembered, rotting…. It added more fuel to the dark parts of my mind. Is it guilt or fear that drives these dreams?